A Year of Songs

Everything is everything. That seems to be how the Big Picture develops. Like a self-replicating fractal, it just seems like

You hope you're just a memory to her, as you squat on the heels of your boots in a forlorn

Love and confusion. Which is the hand, which the glove? The relationship that had just ended when I wrote this

AYoS premier... I'll admit it. This song started just 'cause I liked the sound of the title. It seemed to

He lay across her bed, counting the holes in the ceiling tiles. The afternoon sun came in through slitted mini-blinds,

My first apartment was a 3rd floor split-level walkup in a haunted old Hollywood-Tudor frame house. It had been built

The cartoonish admonitory that is the subject of today's post is a tribute, in its way, to the pre-Just Say

They found you in the arms of another man the needle still in your vein You finally transcended Now you're

They used to call me the bard of bitterness, denial, and regret. Well... it was kind of a one-liner I

He lay on the bed, watching her. He was never any good at reading her. He never felt like he